


Vendetta

by salsgal



Series: The Billionaire and the Kid from Brooklyn [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-04
Updated: 2012-06-24
Packaged: 2017-11-06 19:06:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/422158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/salsgal/pseuds/salsgal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve's past comes back to haunt him, in a very unpleasant way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Taking

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my beta readers, [CaptainCritical](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCritical) and [Sal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sal)!
> 
> This fic will eventually contain explicit sexual content.

Wednesdays, through some freak cosmic coincidence, were almost always "crazy villain" days for the Avengers. This week, the crazy villain had shown up on Tuesday, instead, and Wednesday had been declared "laze around the house" day at Tony Stark's Malibu mansion. The entire team, even Coulson, was there, since this week's crazy villain (an attention-starved teenager trying to style himself as a sort of Don Juan and calling himself The Love Machine, _seriously_ ) had attacked San Luis Obispo, just up the coast.

Tony had even convinced Steve to sleep in, which was rare enough to warrant not only mention but _repeated_ mention on Tony's part, now that morning had edged into late morning and, instead of coffee and waffles for breakfast, Tony was now scarfing down coffee and waffles for brunch. Steve, of course, was drinking fresh-squeezed orange juice and milk, instead of coffee, and his waffles weren't literally _covered_ with syrup. Tony was fond of having waffles with his syrup, instead of the other way around.

"Seriously, we could do this every day," Tony insisted, still pleading the case for sleeping in, or at least the case _against_ getting up at oh-dark-thirty to jog on the beach. "Or most days. Days that we're both here, or both in New York, or… I don't know, just both in the same place."

Steve let Tony ramble on, because Tony always rambled on and there was really no point in trying to put a stop to the rambling. It only ended in frustration for all involved. "I like to run in the morning," he said, knowing full well that Tony would have a comeback.

And of course, Tony did. "Just move your concept of morning to _late_ morning," he said, as if this was the most logical option and should be perfectly obvious to _anyone_. "Sleep in with me, and _then_ go punish your body un-necessarily with cardiovascular torture."

Steve had to laugh at that, almost spitting out a mouthful of orange juice. "It's hardly punishment or torture! It's good for me. And I have to stay in shape."

Tony made a face. "Steve. Seriously? You couldn't get fat if you _tried_. I've seen your medical records. I have my own files. Your metabolism is ridiculous."

Steve grinned and hitched up one shoulder in acknowledgement of the truth of Tony's words. "Okay, but I still have to stay in shape. And I _like_ running. It's…" He fished around for the right word. "It's exhilarating."

"Runner's high." Tony nodded and reached for his coffee cup again. "Crazy stupid biochemistry. Yours more than most."

Steve shook his head, grinning again around a mouthful of waffles. "Crazy _fast_ ," he corrected after he swallowed.

"Fast, strong, enhanced, whatever. Crazy." Tony pointed his fork at Steve. "Also? Fucking _hot_. But why can't you be crazy fucking hot at ten instead of at six-thirty."

Steve laughed again. "Why can't you find me crazy, uh… hot at six-thirty instead of ten?" he countered, and Tony snickered when he self-censored Tony's language.

"Because," Tony pointed out, again as if it should be blatantly obvious, "Six-thirty in the morning is inherently evil, and should be banned from existence. Unless," and again, he pointed his fork at Steve. "Unless six-thirty in the morning is the time you're going to bed."

"Inherently evil!" Steve gave up trying to eat. There would be either choking or food spit onto the table, otherwise. "How can a _time of day_ be inherently evil?" He should've known better than to ask, too. Tony didn't need the encouragement.

"If you need to ask, then there's no way you're gonna understand, Cap." Tony just grinned, looking smug, and Steve was left wondering how he'd lost that round so neatly. "There are many ways, and one of the most obvious involves being a time before ten a.m. at which one is required to _wake up_."

Steve sat back, grinning and drawing patterns in the condensation on his milk glass. "I'm not _required_ —"

"Then why in _hell_ would you get up at six fucking thirty in the morning when you could instead be in bed with me?" Tony spread his arms wide, daring Steve to come up with a rebuttal of his unassailable logic.

Steve shook his head and laughed out loud, holding up both hands in surrender. "Okay, okay, I give! In bed with you is infinitely preferable to _not_ in bed with you, at oh-six-thirty or at _any_ time, inherently evil or not."

Tony's smug grin grew wider, and he sat back, nodding. "Of course it is," he agreed. "I'm glad you understand my clearly superior point of view."

His phone chirped a priority incoming text message as he finished speaking, and he reached for it, just as Steve's phone also beeped a priority alert tone. They were both out of their chairs, food forgotten on the table, even before they read the alerts. S.H.I.E.L.D. only sent priority alerts to more than one team member when the Avengers were needed.

****

With the entire team already at the mansion, it wasn't long before their jump jet was in the air, everyone suited up, Mach 1 (and 2 and 3) long since left behind as the jet carried them all towards New York City.

"Seriously, why do the crazies always go for New York?" Clint asked from the pilot's seat. "It's like there's some kind of super-villain beacon in Times Square or something."

"Is there such a beacon?" Thor leaned forward towards the cockpit. "Why would such a device exist?"

Tony rolled his eyes and Clint tried to stifle a laugh. For all the team's efforts to bring both Steve and Thor up-to-date on 21st Century technology on Earth, there were some things that still escaped Thor's grasp. At least, Tony thought, Steve knew better – in fact, Steve was carefully staring at the flooring between his boots and biting his lower lip in an effort to keep from chuckling.

"Sarcasm, big guy," Tony said, clapping a gauntlet to Thor's shoulder. "We don't have any super-villain beacons. We have technology and people and places that seem to attract the baddies – the Tesseract, for example – but it's not on purpose."

Thor looked relieved and concerned at the same time. "Ah. That is good, then."

Tony reached over to pat Steve's back as Steve was taken with a sudden coughing fit, and Clint lost the battle to contain his snickers. Even Bruce was grinning, and only Natasha managed to keep a straight face. Thor, being the giant puppy and good sport that he was, gave a rueful grin of his own. "You have caught me out again, Iron Man."

Tony just grinned and gave a short bow. "It's a talent. Can't help myself. Honestly, I don't even try."

"He really doesn't," Steve confirmed, looking up finally, his eyes bright with amusement. "Not at all."

****

The flight from Malibu to New York City took less than an hour. They could see the fight from miles out, and Clint dropped to subsonic speeds as they came in over the water. Steve reached for the controls to open the back hatch. "Iron Man, Thor, you're up first. We'll see you on the ground."

Tony nodded and his faceplate snapped into place. Thor stepped forward, Mjölnir at the ready. As soon as the back hatch was open, they were both gone, and Clint swung the jet around to find a landing spot even before the hatch sealed shut again.

The fighting on the ground was fierce, heavy, and oddly without any obvious intent other than simply to cause as much destruction as possible. The aggressors were unidentifiable – no known uniforms or markings, no clear affiliation, no leader obvious on the ground. Steve found himself losing track of the others, though it was easier to spot Iron Man and Hulk than anyone else. By the time he realized that his attackers were using corralling tactics and not actually trying to take him out, he was well and truly separated from the rest of the team.

"SitRep!" he called over the Avengers' comm. Line, wanting an update. If he was being segregated, the others probably were in the same situation. Their attackers seemed to be using divide-and-conquer tactics.

One by one, everyone reported in – Hulk's report consisted of a grunt and the sound of something being utterly destroyed. Before Iron Man could finish his snarky comments about the horrible fashion sense displayed by 'the bad news ninjas', a wash of red light flared in Steve's vision, every nerve ending in his body fired with _paincoldhotpressure **pain**_ , and then everything went black.

"Cap? Come on, Cap, that was funny." Iron Man settled to the blacktop and frowned as the bad news ninjas started to break off their attacks. "Widow, to your left, incoming. Cap?"

Natasha turned and took the head off the ninja sneaking up on her, and one of Clint's arrows took out another coming up on her other side. Tony registered both hits, but his attention was sudden on the fact that Captain America wasn't answering his comm.

"Cap? Captain America, report in." There was no response, and Tony swore viciously over the open comm. Iron Man was in the air in a heartbeat.

"Avengers, Captain America is _out_ of radio contact. Repeat, Cap is not responding. Can anyone see him? J.A.R.V.I.S., find..."

"I am already scanning," J.A.R.V.I.S. cut in before Tony could finish. "I do not see Captain Rogers, and I am not able to get a location on either his transponder or his shield." Even J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded worried.

Tony swore again, even more viciously. "Does _anyone_ have a visual on Cap?"

The negative reports came in, and Tony's blood ran cold. He opened his mouth to give orders, already gaining altitude to expand his search parameters. "J.A.R.V.I.S.—"

Fury's voice across the comm interrupted him. "Avengers, we are reading a massive energy burst ten miles out from the Island. Readings are consistent with a portal."

Tony was heading in that direction before Fury finished speaking, teeth clenched against steadily increasing g-forces. "Full power to—" he began, and J.A.R.V.I.S. interrupted with "Already done." Tony could see the portal, could see the pale blur of sand on the other side, but the portal was closing. He tried to get more power from the suit, but J.A.R.V.I.S. had already dialled it up to maximum. He wasn't going to make it in time, even at better than Mach 1.

The portal winked out of existence just _seconds_ before Iron Man barrelled through the now-empty space where the portal had been. Tony's howl of denial echoed across the comm.

Fury's voice cut through the silence that followed. "Avengers, stand down and return to base. S.H.I.E.L.D. will handle cleanup. Repeat, stand down and return to base."

Tony flew straight up, swearing and fighting the urge to ignore Fury and just go _find_ Steve, even though he knew that he couldn't, not now, not by himself. Swearing again, he changed trajectory and headed back towards land. The sooner they started looking for Steve, the sooner they'd find him.


	2. Missing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Red Skull shows his ugly face and the Avengers try to find their missing Captain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains material that may trigger. Please see End Notes for details.

Iron Man landed on the deck of the helicarrier as the jump jet was being secured. The faceplate retracted, but he didn’t tell the suit to disengage. He’d never admit it to anyone else, but dealing with anyone _without_ the protective barrier of the suit right now felt too raw. Too open.

Plus, he was only planning on staying just long enough to get the intel he needed to go get Steve back.

Get him back with extreme prejudice.

The others didn’t try to talk to him on the way to the conference room. They all knew better.

Fury was waiting for them, his hands clasped behind his back. Tony marched right up to him, already speaking - already making demands.

“I want all the data you have on that portal, every last zero and one. Right fucking now. If you have a problem with that, then I have no problem whatsoever with hacking the _fuck_ out of your supposedly secure network and taking the information that I need. In fact, J.A.R.V.I.S.--”

“The data has already been made available,” Fury interrupted him smoothly, without so much as a twitch. “I want hourly updates on your progress determining the nature of the portal, the identity of Captain Rogers’ abductors, and the most likely location of his captivity.”

Tony blinked twice, and then gave a jerky nod. “Right. Right, hourly. J.A.R.V.I.S., make sure Fury gets hourly updates. I need...”

Fury held out an arm, indicating the corridor. “Labs, equipment, and Dr. Banner. Get to work, Stark.”

Tony nodded again and turned on his heels, heading for the labs.

****

Steve came awake slowly. At first, everything was thick, heavy, cotton wool surrounding his senses. Gradually, sensations began to creep in. At first, general discomfort: his shoulders, his back, his belly, his _arms_. Then cold, growing colder. He was upright, bound, his arms above his head and much of his weight pulling on his wrists, but his ankles and his waist were also immobilized. And then, as he realized that he was shivering, pain began to bloom across his body. _Everything_ hurt, with the exception of his hands. He couldn’t feed his hands at all. Every shiver sent pain radiating along his nerves, and he groaned hoarsely in agony.

“I see that you are finally awake, Captain Rogers.”

Steve twitched, and then groaned again. He _knew_ that voice, speaking perfect  English with a heavy German accent. It hurt - hurt like hell - to lift his head, but he did it, forced his eyes open and blinked to focus on the face of the man standing in front of him.

The _red_ face of the man standing in front of him.

“Sch - Schmidt,” he stammered, shivering too hard to speak without stuttering.

Johann Schmidt - Red Skull - grinned at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Indeed. I do apologise for the circumstances of your... retrieval. But of course, you and I have unfinished business.”

Steve clenched his teeth against the pain, and yanked hard to free his arms - and then screamed as agony speared his wrists, which stayed quite firmly held by their bonds.

Schmidt clucked his tongue and waggled a finger at Steve. “Ah ah ah, Captain. Even you cannot break free of adamantium bonds. I would hate to see you harm yourself. Well.” He gave another horrific grin. “Harm yourself _further_. I am quite looking forward to doing that, myself.”

Steve squeezed his eyes shut against the fiery pain in his wrists, and panted through his clenched teeth. His hands were still numb, but his left wrist was broken - he had felt and heard the bone break - and he wasn’t sure about his right wrist. “I’ll heal,” he bit out. “Wh-what do y-you want?”

Schmidt spread his hands with a wide, beatific smile. “Why, you, of course, Captain. As I said, we have unfinished business.” He paced closer, his hands clasped behind his back. “You took something from me, and I have been waiting quite a long time to exact my vengeance.”

Steve forced himself to keep his eyes open, watching Schmidt even though he wasn’t able to focus. “I d-didn’t take anyth-thing from you. I s- _stopped_ you.”

Schmidt’s hand lashed out in a vicious backhand, and Steve’s head snapped to one side from the force of the blow. His teeth clicked together, the coppery taste of blood flooded his tongue, and a fresh burst of pain exploded behind his eyes.

“You took _everything_ from me!” Droplets of Schmidt’s spittle were hot points of contact on Steve’s cheek. “I would have ruled the _world_ , as rightfully I should! You are pathetic, using Doctor Erskine’s gift to protect the miserable masses. We are _above_ them, you and I! We are better than human!”

Steve licked blood from his lips before speaking. “S-speak for yours-self, Schmidt. I’m n-no better than anyone e-else. And unl-like you, I’m n-not a m-monster.”

Schmidt’s backhand this time was harder, backed by a furious snarl, and Steve’s vision flared bright white from the impact before everything once again went black.

****

The labs on the helicarrier were a textbook example of chaos. Equipment was in pieces, repurposed to create new equipment or augment other equipment. The various display screens were full, riots of colour and scrolling data, progress reports showing increasing percentages of completion overlaid on top of radiation bandwidth displays and bar graphs.

Bruce kept to his workstations off to one side, a small island of calm in the eye of Hurricane Stark. Tony had been going non-stop for close to twelve hours since Fury send the pair down to the labs, always in motion, moving from workstation to spectrometer to coffee machine and back.

They had isolated the portal’s energy signature almost right away. It was similar to, but not _identical_ to, that of the Tesseract. While pattern-matching algorithms tried to come up with a probable identification for the kidnappers, Tony and Bruce were trying to trace the portal’s destination.

Flashing red on Bruce’s primary display caught his attention. He pulled the target window open, and sent it to Tony’s primary screen. “We’ve eliminated another set of coordinates, and the probabilities for-”

Tony grabbed the window and expanded it. “I see it,” he interrupted. “Narrow the search parameters. We know they’re on Earth, just not if it’s _this_ Earth. Damn it!” He threw his stylus across the room. “I need Richards.” He reached up to tap his earpiece. “Fury, I need Richards.”

There was a brief delay before Fury answered, sounding calmly exasperated. “Doctor Richards and his team are already on their way, ETA twenty minutes.”

“Oh.” Tony actually went still for just a moment. “All right, then. Good work.” He tapped the earpiece off, blinked twice, and dove back into the hurricane.

****

Steve had no idea how long it had been - the lights were always on, and there were no windows, no way of marking the passage of time. He knew it had been more than a day, only because Schmidt had made mention of “yesterday’s events” while trying to goad him into reacting again.

He still couldn’t feel his hands, and both of his wrists were incessantly throbbing in pain, but his awareness of the pain was muted by the fact that his arms were all but numb because they were still held bound above his head, and by the creeping numbness of cold.

He was _so_ cold.

Schmidt was keeping him just this side of hypothermic, just cold enough that he was constantly shivering but not cold enough that he started to feel warm, instead. The shivering made everything hurt even worse, jarring his broken wrists and making even breathing an exercise in pain management.

He was _so damned cold_.

He _hated_ being cold, with good reason, and Schmidt knew it. As a torture tactic, it was proving to be very effective, indeed. Not that Schmidt’s other efforts weren’t useful, as well: constant pain, sleep deprivation, and frequent verbal abuse including descriptions of precisely how Schmidt’s forces had taken his team-mates - particularly Iron Man - out of the game.

“You took _everything_ from me, Captain Rogers,” Schmidt told him idly, as he flicked the tails of a small flogger against Steve’s bared ribs, smearing the blood already marking his skin. “It is only to be expected that I should return the favour.”

Steve did his very best to not react, to let the cold and the pain take him down beyond the reach of Schmidt’s words. He couldn’t handle the possibility that his team-mates were all dead.

He didn’t want to _consider_ a world where Tony was dead.

****

The labs on the helicarrier had long since transcended “chaos”. Reed Richards and his particular brand of crazy had joined the mix, and Fury had allocated additional lab space to the effort, which Bruce, Tony and Reed had very quickly filled.

Tony was, as per usual, in the middle of it all, surrounded by clear displays, his hands and mouth in constant motion. J.A.R.V.I.S. was involved, of course, which meant that _four_ of the greatest minds in the multiverse were now trying to find Captain America.

“Right, what have we eliminated?” Tony asked, rising to his feet and reaching for yet another can of Red Bull. “Everything in this group, more than half of this group...” He touched the red-marked areas on the largest display within reach.

“Actually, I think I have a better algorithm for ruling out worlds faster,” Reed put in, without looking up from his own workstation. “Bruce, your code is excellent, but what do you think of this?” He slid a window across from his display to Bruce’s, and Tony padded over to look over Bruce’s shoulder. Reed just stretched his neck over, and then one hand, so he could point out the changes he’d made. “Here, I’ve added additional parameters that more closely match the portal’s energy signature.”

Tony reached over to tap the screen, enlarging the code and highlighting one section. “This is the pattern match for his transponder. It’s being cross-matched with the pattern match for the shield, right? Logical AND?”

Bruce and Reed both shook their heads, and it was bruce who answered Tony’s question. “No, logical OR. We’re looking for either one or the other.”

Tony was changing the code even before Bruce finished speaking. “Okay, sure, that’ll work. As long as whoever took him didn’t ditch the shield and then move on. If we’re going to include the shield in the search, then we should only take shield hits, or _vibranium_ hits, where we also get a hit on the transponder. If we get a vibranium hit without a transponder hit, we put it on the no-fly list.” He quickly typed as Bruce and Reed watched, and neither man disagreed with him. “I don’t give a flying _fuck_ about finding the shield if we don’t find _Steve_.”

Reed stretched one hand closer to point out another change, Bruce suggested swapping the order of precedence on two of the search parameters, and in ten minutes the three of them had rewritten most of the search code.

“Done,” Tony declared, sitting back. “J.A.R.V.I.S., integrate that and update the results. I want all the vibranium-only hits marked as ‘no’.”

“Of course, sir,” J.A.R.V.I.S. answered. “I have integrated the changes. An additional twenty-three percent of searched locations have been eliminated.”

Tony nodded and tapped his stylus against his chin. “Twenty-three. Right, okay, good. At this point, any actual hits we get - well, we should only get one. Theoretically. Unless some other world’s Steve has the exact same transponder code as ours.”

Reed retracted himself to his normal human shape. “Not statistically impossible.”

Tony made his way back to his own workstations, and picked up his Red Bull again. “Not statistically impossible, no. But I custom-programmed his transponder code. So it’s not necessarily statistically _unlikely_ , either. What are the chances that another version of me would pick the date we found him in the ice as his unique identifier?”

Bruce pursed his lips. “I’m, uh, sure there’s a solidly non-zero chance, there, Tony. But even still, the odds are in our favour. Listen, you should try to get some rest. The search is running, we have J.A.R.V.I.S. chewing on the I.D. data. You can take a couple of hours.”

Tony didn’t even look up from his main display as he reached for yet another can of Red Bull. “Yeah, no. I’ll rest after we find him and get him home.”

Reed stretched an arm over and caught the can out of Tony’s hand. “If you don’t get some rest, you’ll be useless, or worse, a liability when we go in to rescue him. At least four hours of sleep, Stark, and then you can come back.”

Twenty minutes of arguing and the threat of forcible sedation from Fury saw Tony lying on the bunk in his assigned room, staring up at the ceiling and grinding his teeth in angry frustration.

Ten minutes later, despite his intention to stay awake out of spite, he was sound asleep.

****

The next time Steve regained consciousness, he was lying prone, though his arms were still bound above his head. He could feel his fingers, and he wasn’t shivering - well, not as hard, anyway. Unfortunately, that also meant that his wrists were throbbing mercilessly and the weals Schmidt had left across his ribs and thighs were bright, angry stripes of pain.

His left eye had been swollen shut from Schmidt’s backhand blows, but thanks to his enhanced metabolism - _his healing factor, he could hear Tony saying in his head_ \- he could see with both eyes again, even if he still couldn’t focus properly. He blinked, widening his eyes, and gingerly turned his head, looking for his captor.

Schmidt was currently nowhere to be seen. Steve closed his eyes for a moment, trying to assess his own condition while he had the time.

Restraints: still very much in place at his wrists, ankles and waist.

Temperature: _cold_ , but not as cold as he had been.

Injuries: both wrists almost certainly broken; whip welts from his shoulders to his knees, broken up only by the strip of adamantium at his waist; fingers no longer numb but still thick and clumsy, probably as much from his broken wrists as from the cold and hanging upright.

Environment: a combination lab and cell. No surprise there, really. It was almost cliche. Laboratory equipment and computers lined the walls that Steve could see. There were no windows. The air wasn’t stale, but underground bunkers had been well-ventilated even back during the war, so that didn’t mean anything.

His shield was nowhere to be seen, but again, given his very limited field of view, that didn’t necessarily mean anything. At least he was lying down for the time being. Hanging upright by one’s arms for an extended period of time could be very, very bad, indeed.

Thinking about it must have jinxed him. The surface under hm shifted, tilting, and as he was rotated upright again, he had to clench his teeth against the sharp spike in pain when his weight began to shift to his wrists. The metal of his shackles, and the platform at his back, began to burn with cold.

Once he was more vertical than horizontal, Steve could see Schmidt standing just inside the armoured door. The other man was tapping his ubiquitous flogger against his gloved hand.

“Captain Rogers. You are already awake; excellent. We will be able to begin immediately.” Schmidt stepped closer and touched a series of controls on one of the consoles. Then he turned back to look at Steve, smiled, and toggled a switch.

Streaks of fire exploded down Steve’s back, from his shoulders to his heels, everywhere his skin was touching the platform. His muscles locked and spasmed, twitched and jerked. Pain enveloped him, swamping his senses and completely overwhelming him. He screamed, again and again, utterly helpless to stop or to keep his body from convulsing.

Schmidt stepped closer, grinning his horrible grin. “Pathetic,” he commented, sounding almost kind. “So _weak_ , just like the _normal_ humans.” He stepped back to the control panel, toggling the switch off again.

Steve slumped, panting, his muscles still twitching as the last tendrils of electricity faded away. He forced himself, on sheer willpower alone, to lift his head and look at Schmidt, even though he was even less able to focus now. He didn’t trust himself to speak, but he did his level best to glare.

Schmidt actually laughed at him. “Ah, you are brave, Captain. I will give you that. We are going to have a great deal of fun together, you and I.” He stepped closer again, swinging the flogger against his palm. “A great deal of fun. Shall we see how long you are able to remain brave? How long before you are begging me to stop?”

Steve clenched his teeth against the pain, refusing to rise to the bait, to dignify the taunting with a response. Schmidt just grinned again and drew back his arm, the flogger swinging in the air. “Bravery, Captain Rogers, has its limits, and pain is an excellent tool for locating those boundaries. I will quite enjoy finding yours.” The flogger whistled through the air, and stripes of pain bloomed across Steve’s chest. He gasped, but otherwise made no sound.

Three lashes later, he swore. Four lashes after that, he screamed, and kept screaming.

Schmidt struck him nearly thirty times before he stopped, swearing viciously in frustration. “I _will_ break you!” he snarled as he threw the flogger across the room. Steve didn’t reply, didn’t even lift his head this time. Schmidt stepped back to the control console and toggled the electric current back on.

Steve screamed, sobbed and thrashed uncontrollably, but he refused to beg. Schmidt did not relent until he finally, mercifully passed out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains descriptions of non-sexual torture of a captive by his captor.


	3. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team finds their missing Cap and brings him home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, many thanks go out to my beta, [CaptainCritical](http://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCritical) and my much, much better half, [Sal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Sal).
> 
> This chapter, like the last, contains descriptions of torture of a captive by his captor.

Four hours later, J.A.R.V.I.S. woke Tony from a restless sleep. Tony took just enough time to empty his bladder, completely ignored his spectacular case of bedhead, and bolted back to the labs.

"Tell me we found him," he blurted as he barreled through the doors. Bruce looked up sharply in surprise, but Reed didn't even twitch.

"We would have had J.A.R.V.I.S. wake you sooner, if we'd found him, Tony." Reed stretched an arm across to tap at Tony's primary display, and then sent an update to the screen. Tony settled into his chair and reached for a can of Red Bull, popped it open, and sipped at it as he read through the updates.

"No transponder hits at all," he muttered. "Damn it. _Damn_ it. Seventeen hits on vibranium, so hey, possible mining opportunities, but... _Fuck!_ " He shoved his chair backward and threw his stylus across the room.

Bruce chewed on his lip. "We have some more data on who took him," he ventured. "J.A.R.V.I.S. gave us some enhanced video footage from a CCTV in the area."

That got Tony's attention. "Show me."

Bruce sent the window to Tony's main display. One half of the window showed a short video clip on repeat. The other showed a still shot, cropped and magnified. Tony squinted at it, enlarged it further, and then swore viciously in several languages. He reached up to tap his earpiece as Bruce and Reed stared at him.

"Fury. We know who has Cap." He zoomed the image in further. "It's Red Skull."

****

Steve floated in and out of consciousness, drifting between hazy oblivion and pain so severe that all he could do was shake and try to scream. His voice was long since completely gone, and Schmidt wasn't leaving him alone long enough for his throat to heal.

During his more licid moments, Schmidt taunted him, gleefully reminding him that his friends were dead. He tried to tune it out, but Schmidt was very good at inflicting just enough pain to break his concentration - not quite enough to make him pass out. He started deliberately shifting his wrists, hoping to cause enough pain to drown out Schmidt's voice.

"Now, now, Captain," Schmidt's gloved hand grasped his chin, forcing his head up. "Why are you trying to deprive me of my enjoyment?" Fingers patted his cheek almost gently, and he pried his eyes open, tried to work up enough saliva to spit in Schmidt's face.

He couldn't manage it, of course, and Schmidt just laughed at his attempt. "Your true nature is revealed, Captain! You are as base as any man, reverting to barbaric attacks when your weapons are removed."

"I'm not... the barbarian," Steve rasped, his voice nothing more than the harsh whisper of sandpaper over gravel. "You..." he coughed and blood flecks dotted his lips. "Torture. That's... barbaric."

Schmidt's smug smirk faded and he reached out to yet again backhand Steve's jaw. "You are beneath me!" he snarled. "Unimportant. Un _worthy!_ " Another blow landed, harder than the first, and Steve's vision swam. "You do not _deserve_ the gift you were given!"

Schmidt stepped back and toggled the electric current on, then dialed up the intensity. Steve's back arched away from the table, and he opened his mouth in a nearly silent scream. His body convulsed and bloody foam flecked his lips. Schmidt snarled and turned the intensity up again. White light flared behind Steve's eyelids, and his whole body seized. Then everything went dark.

****

"Report." Fury wasted no time or words, demanding details as soon as Tony, Bruce and Reed came into the room. That suited Tony just fine. He walked right up to the closest large-screen display and threw data from his PDA to the screen. The enhanced image filled the display, and Red Skull's face appeared, somewhat pixelated but still recognizeable.

"Schmidt has him," Tony stated bluntly. "I have no fucking idea if that's Schmidt from our Earth or not, but it's definitely Schmidt."

Fury planted his hands on his hips and glared at the image. "Any information on Cap's location?"

Tony shook his head, and Reed spoke up. "We've enhanced the search algorithms to account for-"

"Excuse me, Doctor Richards." J.A.R.V.I.S.'s smooth voice interrupted Reed just as Tony's PDA started beeping loudly and flashing a red alert box. "Our search has returned a hit on both Captain Rogers' transponder and his shield."

Tony's fingers flew across the PDA's screen, and the search's status was suddenly displayed in place of Red Skull's face. Reed stretched his head over, nodding as he looked at the results. "I can get us there."

Fury reached for his earpiece. "Hill. Get the Avengers and the Richards' team together, and scramble Major Sheppard's team. We have a location on Rogers."

Forty minutes later, eight Quinjets - carrying the Avengers, the Fantastic Four and a S.H.I.E.L.D. special ops squad - took off in sequence, flanked by Iron Man and the Human Torch. As soon as they were all clear, the lead Quinjet deployed a specialized transmitter that opened a portal very similar to the portal through which Steve had been taken.

There was a landscape of sand on the other side.

Iron Man was through first, followed by all eight jets and the Torch. The portal spiraled closed behind them.

****

The fight was fierce but fairly short. Clearly, Red Skull had not expected to be discovered, or at least not so quickly. Eight fully armed stealth jets and two flying soldiers - three once Thor also took to the air - overwhelmed Red Skull's forces without losing any jets or men. Once it became clear that they were completely outmatched, they began to either surrender or flee, nowhere near as loyal as Schmidt's wartime HYDRA forces had been.

Tony didn't wait for anyone's all-clear. Once he had a clear shot into the bunker - once he'd _created_ a doorway - he left the battle outside and followed his tracker towards Steve's transponder signal.

Automated reflexes and J.A.R.V.I.S.'s assistance kept Tony from slamming into walls as Iron Man flew through the bunker's corridors. He heard the team over the comm channel, and grinned viciously when they reported that Johnny Storm had taken down what appeared to be Schmidt's escape vehicle.

He finally landed outside an armoured, locked door deep in the bunker complex. The electronic lock was no problem at all for J.A.R.V.I.S. and in seconds he was pushing the door open, one arm raised, palm out with the repulsor primed.

There was on sign of anyone at all in the room, except-

"Steve! Jesus fuck!" Tony retracted the armour's faceplate and yanked the helmet off, dropping it on a table as he sprinted across the room to where Steve still hung upright, naked and shivering uncontrollably, whipped bloody, his manacled hands and wrists swollen and purple.

Steve tried to lift his head when he heard Tony's voice - Iron Man's voice, really, distorted by the voicebox in the armour. His eyes were nearly swollen shut, again, but he could make out the red and gold blur reaching for him.

"Tony?" he said - tried to say, but it came out as a nearly soundless wheeze.

Tony swore _violently_ , his voice and expression blazing with anger, but his hands were infinitely gentle as he reached to cup Steve's bruised face. "Yeah, babe. It's me," he whispered. "It's me, I'm here. The whole team is here. You're going to be all right, now."

"Red..." Steve began, and Tony touched a gauntleted finger to his bloody lips.

"Shh, I know. I know. Storm took down his plane when he was trying to escape." Tony started searching for releases on the manacles, but found none. "J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Step back, sir," J.A.R.V.I.S. responded. "I have control of the restraint system, but I must level the platform first."

Tony stepped back, and the platform shifted instantly, rotating back to horizontal. Steve made a choked sound as his weight came off his wrists.

"Sir, I have disabled the cooling units in the restraint system," J.A.R.V.I.S. said, sounding completely calm when Tony felt anything _but_. "And the restraints have been released."

As he spoke, all of the restraints clicked and released. Tony stepped forward to ease them off. "Cooling system. Jesus. No wonder you're shivering. Steve? Steve, babe, stay with me, here. Come on." He cuppsed Steve's face with one gauntlet and patted gently. "Steve? _Damn it_. J.A.R.V.I.S.?"

"Captain Rogers has passed out, sir. I have alerted the others. A medical team is already on the way."

****

Tony paced in the waiting area of the medical unit. He had flat out refused to go to the debriefing, even under threat of being denied access to the infirmary. The rest of the team filtered in as the debrief concluded, Hulk once again Bruce. Even Richards' team stopped in. Tony didn't give a damn _who_ was there. He wanted to be in with Steve, or better yet to have Steve walk out, hale and healthy.

At least, Tony told himself, Fury had brought the doctors onboard who had been working with Steve since they'd pulled him from the ice. They were more familiar with his unique biology and physiology than anyone else.

"He heals quickly," Bruce said queitly, when Tony paced close enough to hear him. "If anyone can pull out of this..."

"Red Skull was _freezing_ him," Tony bit out, snarling at Bruce even when his anger was really directed at Schmidt. "He was fucking _freezing_ him! He beat the shit out of him, _whipped_ him bloody, put him in adamantium shackles and left him hanging by his _broken fucking wrists_ , and-"

He broke off abruptly when the door to the infirmary opened and one of the doctors stepped out, pulling off his gloves. "Mister Stark? Captain Rogers is asking to see you, sir."

Tony was through the doors before the doctor finished speaking. "J.A.R.V.I.S., which room?"

"Down the corridor to the left, sir. Captain Rogers is in the second room on the right."

Tony pushed past several nurses, took the corner too fast, and skidded to a stop at the doorway in question. "Steve?"

Three hours had already done a hell of a lot, given Steve's enhanced metabolism. His eyes were no longer swollen shut, though the bruising across his cheeks was still purple-black. His chest was bandaged, and as disconcerting as the white bandages were, they were still much less disturbing than bloody welts. Both of his arms were encased in plaster, white over blue, to mid-forearm. An IV line trailed from the inside of his left elbow, and a clip on his left forefinger monitored the steady beat of his heart.

His smile, despite his still-healing lips, was quite possibly the best thing Tony had ever seen.

Tony stepped into the room, started to reach for Steve's hand, and then stopped himself with a little frown. He shoved his hands into his pockets instead, rocked on his heels, and put his smile back in place. "Hey. You look better. Still kind of like raw ground beef, but better."

Steve's eyes narrowed in amusement, and he lifted his right arm, cast and all, towards Tony. "Kinda feel like raw ground beef," he rasped, his voice still hoarse and rough. "C'mere?"

Tony chewed on his lower lip, but stepped closer to the bed and threaded his fingers with Steve's. "Sorry. I don't want to hurt you."

Steve smiled again. "You won't. Besides, they have me on the really good drugs. I'm kinda really high, right now."

Tony gave a choked laugh, and then leaned forward to press his forehead against Steve's shoulder. "Fuck, Steve. _Fuck_. Don't _ever_ fucking get kidnapped again. _Jesus_." He was not going to tear up, damn it all to hell. He _wasn't_.

Steve turned his head to press a kiss to Tony's hair. "Sorry," he whispered. "Didn't mean to. M'okay, Tony."

Tony squeezed his eyes shut and took a shaky breath. "I know. Anyone but you, they'd probably be dead." He lifted his head and dragged the back of his wrist across his eyes. "But I guess Red Skull knew you could handle a lot more than anyone else."

Steve winced. "Did you catch him?"

Tony sighed and shook his head. "No, damn it all. The son of a bitch had a personal-sized portal generator. His supposed getaway craft was a decoy. Richards and J.A.R.V.I.S. both noted the portal when it opened, but it was somewhere inside the bunker. Nobody could get there in time to stop him. Or even follow him."

Steve's fingers twitched where they were laced with Tony's. "Tracking? Can we find him?"

Tony remembered just in time to not squeeze Steve's fingers in return. "We're working on that, yup. Same way we found you, kind of. No transponder to track, but we'll figure something out."

Steve nodded gingerly, and closed his eyes for a moment. "He told me you were dead. All of you."

Tony shook his head and brought his free hand up to Steve's cheek. "No, hey, no. He was just trying to get to you. Nobody else was even hurt. Everyone's fine, babe."

Steve's lips twitched up into a relieved smile. "Figured that. Mmh." He opened his eyes and turned his head a little into Tony's touch. "Knew you'd find me. Wow, I'm _really_ high."

Tony blinked and then a bark of laughter. "I think I'm jealous. You should rest, though. Even with the good drugs, you need sleep so you can heal."

Steve hummed in agreement. "Mm hmm. Tired. Hey, wait." He widened his eyes, trying to stave off sleep. "You're gonna stay, right?"

Tony leaned down to press a light kiss to his lips, had to force himself to draw back, to not deepen the kiss. "You bet, babe. I'm not goin' anywhere. Promise." And heaven help anyone who tried to make him break that promise.

Steve gave him a sweet, sleepy, dopey smile. "Good. Mmh. M'sorry I scared you." He blinked hard, but his eyes kept closing. "Love you, Tony."

Tony kissed him again. "Love you too. Jesus, Steve. So much. Sleep, babe. I'll be here when you wake up."

Steve's fingers twitched in his, again, and then went lax as sleep dragged him under. Tony stayed where he was for a moment, and then let go of Steve's hand just long enough to pull a chair closer to the bed. "J.A.R.V.I.S., let me know if anyone's coming."

"Of course, sir." Even J.A.R.V.I.S. sounded relieved, now that he knew that Steve was home, safe and recovering. "Might I suggest that you rest, as well, sir?"

Tony huffed softly. "You may suggest," he conceded. "I might even listen." He curled his fingers loosely with Steve's again, and shifted so he could rest his head against his other arm, on the bed. He closed his eyes, reminded himself that Steve was home, that Steve was going to be all right, and let the soft, steady beeping of the heart monitor lull him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I make no promises about how often this will be updated, though I will certainly try to keep it moving. The boys speak to me when they want to speak to me, and I'll pass along whatever they have to say. I _can_ promise that. =)


End file.
